On Recording Your Book for Audible — Guest Post by Emma Stevens
I lean into the microphone and try the sentence again, hoping for a clean recording, “This role reversal, first identified and named by psychiatrist Ivan Boszormenyi-Nagy, can create far-reaching adverse effects on the child’s mental and physical health.”
“Wait, I butchered the psychiatrist’s name again! Let me Google it for the correct pronunciation. Hang on…” I say to Hank, my studio production manager, who’s seated in front of the recording control panel in the room next to mine. I can see him through the window of the soundproof booth where I am.
Hank turns on his mic and jokes, “Better you than me! That name is a doozy!”
I hold my phone up to my ear and listen closely. “BOH-zohr-meh-nyee NAHG-ee.” I press repeat several times in hopes that the voice I hear will engrain the name in my head.
“Quick, Hank, let’s tape it fast while this Google Voice is still in my head!
And we do. I nailed it this time. Yay! I’m very relieved.
Narrating a book you’ve written is an amazing and rewarding experience, but it does come with challenges. I had previously recorded singing vocals with Hank, so it was an obvious choice, a few years later, after writing my first book, to ask Hank to be my production manager. I have now recorded all three of my books at Valcour Sound Studios in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, Hank’s recording studio.
He is a musician himself and has been in the industry since the late 1970s. During breaks, he would share stories with me about the famous musicians he had recorded with, the many years he played in a band, and discuss his fascination with singers like Linda Ronstadt, as well as his favorite, the Beatles.
My books are memoirs that blend my past and present. The central theme in all my books is how being a relinquishee and adoptee has shaped my life. Writing my story was a truly healing experience, but I wasn't prepared for the more profound healing that came when I spoke my words into a microphone and recorded them. Many emotions surfaced as I relied on my body and voice to serve as the channel through which I expressed myself. As my creative writing coach, Anne Heffron, told me, no one can tell your story with the same emotion that you can. I believe this to be true.
If you don’t like hearing your voice played back to you, you need to get over it quickly! Much of my recording process was slow and stop-and-go. Sometimes Hank would ask to listen to a recording to see if it sounded right, and other times I’d do the same. One of the hardest parts of reading aloud was speaking as another character and having a conversation with myself. Switching personas on the spot is tough. I wanted these characters to have their own unique personalities, tones, and inflections. It felt like acting. Sometimes I nailed it on the first try, and other times I had to do many takes until I was happy with the result.
There were specific chapters I needed to mentally prepare for. Reading and discussing my past traumas was both exhilarating and challenging, as I tried not to get too emotional. I found it interesting that I often tripped over or mispronounced words when recording this kind of content. I wondered if this might be a form of unconscious resistance to speaking words about these past painful experiences.
Other situations I faced involved sharing part of my story that either sparked anger or suspense. To do this, I had to revisit the memory to some degree, which often triggered a fight-or-flight response. During these tense moments, I reminded myself to stay calm by taking deep breaths, slowing down my words, and pausing if needed.
During one of the more exciting chapters, I peered through the soundproof room’s window and saw Hank on the edge of his chair, operating the recording console, and he appeared fully engaged with my story. During the next break, he asked, “You have to tell me, did you return the stolen box of adoption records, or not?!”
“I guess you’ll have to wait till the next chapter to find out!” I laughed and couldn’t help but think how different my narration would be if Hank acted disinterested, impatient, or judgmental. Instead, he never showed any irritation whatsoever, even when I was only able to record one sentence before either getting a word wrong, reading with the wrong inflection, or making some mouth noise, such as popping a “p” into the microphone. We worked together, one word at a time, until we reached the last chapter and sentence of the book.
At the start of recording each of my books, the idea of successfully speaking and recording 50,000 words felt overwhelming. Sometimes, I was paralyzed by memories of being in grade school, when the teacher would pick me to read the next paragraph. My heart would pound so loudly that I could barely hear myself read the words to the class. And if I were really unlucky, the paragraph would be half a page long. Or worse, filled with words I was unsure how to pronounce correctly. This present-day project differed, though, in that these were words that I had written. These were words that I have lived and am living. Believing in my story fueled me to overcome any fears or stumbling blocks that stood in my way.
I cherish these recordings and the time and money I invested in making them as clear and smooth as possible. Having an interested and empathetic partner like my production manager, Hank, also helped make the experience both memorable and cathartic. Writing my story helped me see it laid out on paper, but speaking and recording it helped bring it to life for me, and hopefully, for the listener as well.
https://emmastevenswriter.com/
FB, IG, & TikTok: @emmastevenswriter
